An Extra Mile

"Thank you for calling [company name and project redacted], my name is Doug. How can I help you today."

"I talked to you before," said the caller, "and you got my order wrong!"

That is how one of my calls last week started.  While my first reaction was to deny that I had made a mistake, I didn't say that.  Frankly, I am not perfect, and while I think I do a good job most of the time, I have made mistakes.  So, it was at least possible that I could have gotten this caller's order wrong.

I got the caller's account information and checked his history.  As it turned out, I had not spoken with this customer before.  As I researched the issue, I found it was another agent who had taken his call.  I was relieved, but tried not to show it.

The caller stated that he ordered a particular item and received a different item instead.  He ordered a quantity of 5 the item, but received a quantity of 7 of the wrong item.  That was a curious discrepancy as it is one thing to get the item wrong, but the get the quantity wrong as well is something else.

Further, the two items in question are so different from one another, belonging in very different categories of products.  At first I just could not see how the agent he talked to made the mistake.  Then it dawned on me, and it was so simple it was no wonder that I almost missed it.

The product code of the item the customer did receive rhymed with the name of the product that he said he ordered.  Still, there is a procedure in place to prevent such a simple mistake.  Before placing the order the agent is supposed to recap what was ordered, by product code, product name and the quantity.  Had the agent done this, the customer would have recognized that the agent had selected the wrong product.

But this was only the beginning.  After receiving the wrong product, the customer had called back.  The agent he talked to on that occasion had merely forwarded a request to the escalation team to have the correct item sent.  The escalation team subsequently noted on the customer's account that this would require the approval of a supervisor for a one time courtesy to have the correct item sent.

Wait, a one time courtesy, when it was a mistake made by our agent, and thus by the company?  It if was our mistake, should we not fix it without using the customer's sole one time courtesy?  But how was the escalation team to know who made the mistake?

Enter the author.  There was an option that it appeared the second agent had not thought to do.  However, the opening accusation from the customer that it had been me that he had talked to and that I had messed up his order still stung a little.  On top of that, by the time I had figured out what had likely gone wrong, it was several minutes after my shift was supposed to have ended.  There was a temptation to hurry up and end the call so I could go home.

Unable to find out whether the approval of the one time courtesy had been made and a new order placed, my first thought was to send it back to the escalation team.  But I was sure that the likely outcome would be a repeat of what happened the first time the issue was sent to the escalation team.

But what other options did I have?  As I wrote the the email I was going to send to the escalation team, another possibility occurred me.  But I hesitated.  The other possibility would have involved talking to a supervisor, which would have taken time, and kept me longer after my shift was supposed to have ended.  Why should I, I thought, after the caller accused me to messing up his order?

In the end, I just couldn't take the easy route, I couldn't pass the buck.  Instead of sending an email to the escalation team, I sent one to my supervisor.  I asked my sup to pull the call and listen to see if it was the agent who made the mistake.  I saved the email to the escalation team as a draft, so I could send it if my supervisor was able to pull the call and listen to it.  I advised the customer that we would pull the call and if it could be determined that the agent who took the order had made the mistake, that we would send him the correct item.

The next day, a SME let me know that the call had been pulled and that the agent who took the order had indeed made the mistake.  Because of that, the customer was going to be taken care of.

Looking back, it seems such a small thing to email my supervisor and ask her to pull the call.  But in the moment I had hesitated, tempted to take the easy route.  Then I thought of the teachings of the Savior in the Sermon on the Mount:

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.  And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.  And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain.  Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away" (Matthew 5:38-42).

Addicted to Love?

Let me begin this post with a startling confession: I sometimes feel like I am addicted to love.  Now, I am not continually starting new relationships in order to feel the high of falling in love, only to turn around and destroy the relationship in order to free myself so that I can start another one.  I think it would be more accurate to say that I am often craving love and feeling that I am not getting enough of it. For most of my life I have simply wanted to be loved by someone, only to feel frustration that I am not feeling loved.

I should say that this is not because there has not been anyone to give me love.  Rather, the issue seems to be with myself as I think I have a hard time receiving what love has been given.  As an example, I crave compliments, yet when they are given I find myself not believing them and in some cases even deflecting them.

When I was a child I felt that I did not belong any where, that I was an outcast at school, at church, and even at home.  An old friend once observed that is was clear that I had not received enough love as a child.  My younger brother was born exactly one year and one week after I was, and my mother more than once expressed guilt at not being able to give me the attention I needed.

Outside of the home, I experienced bullying and only a little friendship.  The kids made fun of me at school, at church and in my neighborhood.  My best friend dumped me in the fifth grade.  Later, in high school, I did make a lot of friends, but I was never really sure just how I fit in with them.  One of my biggest fears is that none of it was real.

As for the opposite sex, I had my first crush on a girl when I was in the first grade and my second crush in the fourth grade, but those were innocent and childish.  That changed in junior high when some girls played a joke on me by writing me love notes.  I was pretty sure the girl who supposedly signed the notes did not actually like me, nonetheless, I found myself fantasizing about dating her, and at least some of my fantasies were not so innocent.

Then I fell for the one girl who had been genuinely nice and friendly to me, and I wanted her to like me as much as I liked her.  I took her to the junior prom on my first ever date with a girl, but it seemed that my love would be unrequited.  Then I met another girl, a sweet angel, and started falling for her.  But this time I wanted to be more careful, and decided to try and build a good friendship with her before asking her out.  But the school year ended and that was put on hold.

There was, then, another girl, with whom I had a "summer fling" between my sophomore and junior years.  I did some things that summer that I am not very proud of.

I met Katherine, and other new friends, in a group I joined during the school year called Braves Against Drinking and Drugs.  The group went around to some other schools making a presentation meant to discourage alcohol and drug use.  We put on a skit where I played the authoritarian father who lectures his son about using drugs.

During the state basketball tournament, I would go to one of the games with Katherine and her friend.  They were surprised when I was not so shy and retiring as I cheered on the Braves -- and yelling at the referees for a bad call.  On the last day of school, when we had finished signing yearbooks, Katherine and her friend came by my house to hang out for awhile.  One of the things I remember talking about was an idea for a novel I was writing -- one of many started and never finished -- and I even showed them the first chapter.

A few weeks later I asked Katherine out on a proper date and took her to see a movie.  After the movie we went for ice cream sundaes; she seemed to be having a good time.  But then I did something I am not proud of; I drove up into the hills and found a place to park.  I asked her if she wanted to make out, something I would never have thought to do with any other girl.  Thankfully, she said that she did not love me enough to do that.

She must have liked me, though, because she said yes when I asked her out a second time.  I took her swimming at the old indoor pool.  At one point we were playing basketball in the pool and I got a bit frisky.  In playing defense I got a little physical with her.  If any of my antics upset her, Katherine never said, and she said yes when I asked her out for a third and final date.  We played some board games at my house and watched a video.

Katherine was very smart, and a bit of a feminist.  I was taught to be a gentlemen, but she would object each time I would open a door for her.  "I can do it myself," she would say.

I think by the third date we saw that we didn't have that much in common.  Still, Katherine was the first girl I would date multiple times, and even after that summer she never seemed to mind spending time with me.  Maybe there was more there than I realized.  Could she have loved me more if we had continued dating?

But summer was ending, and I had just recently had an encounter with the girl I took to the prom, which gave me some encouragement that she might still like me.  With the school year about to start, there was another girl I wanted to build a friendship with.

Katherine and I remained friends, having a class or two in common over the next two years.  But in the spring of our senior year we had a few arguments.  We often ate lunch together and the differences between us, from music to marriage, led to some disagreements.  As I look back on it now, I feel that those debates could have been avoided if I had just minded my own business.  Instead, on a few things I really pushed my point of view, and in the end our friendship faded away.

Soon enough I would realize that it is a mistake to push your beliefs and ideas onto another person.  There needs to be a certain amount of live and let live.  It is one thing to share with those who are interested, but another to be zealous with those who are not.  And, frankly, not everything is our business.

I have not talked to Katherine since the summer after high school.  I should like to someday so that I could apologize to her for pushing my point of view as hard as I did.  There are some other things I should like to apologize for, things that I have not mentioned here.  At least some of the things I should like to apologize for I think I did because of how much I was craving love and affection.

Forgiving A Brutal Enemy / Pray for Peace

On April 18, 1942, then Lt. Colonel Jimmy Doolittle led sixteen B-25s in an attack on Tokyo and other Japanese cities.  The unique thing about this raid is that the bombers took off from the deck of an aircraft carrier.  "Doolittle and his raiders had accomplished the impossible," wrote James M. Scott in his 2015 book Target Tokyo, "taking off as such a great distance that most knew the chance of survival was slim at best, yet the airmen still managed to bomb Japan and escape.  That more were not captured or killed is miraculous, saved only by a tailwind that pilot Harold Watson later described as the 'hand of heaven.'"

Eight of the Doolittle Raiders were captured by the Japanese: Dean Hallmark, Bob Meder, Chase Nielsen (from Hyrum, Utah), Bill Farrow, Bob Hite, George Barr, Harold Spatz, and Jake DeShazer. Three of the raiders, Hallmark, Farrow and Spatz, were executed by the Japanese. Bob Meder would die of starvation during captivity, and George Barr was so close to death when he was liberated that his mental and physical recovery would take two years.

After Meder's death, Hite wrote the governor of the prison protesting the treatment of the prisoners.  Hite then asked "will you please give us the Holy Bible to read?"  Meder's death must have caused the Japanese some trouble because changes were made, among them that the prisoners were allowed to share a few English books, including the Bible.

"It was the first time that I had ever -- and I think any of us -- the first time any of us had really read the Bible from cover to cover," said Hite. "I was sort of like a man being in the desert and finding a cool pool." Hite went on to say, "Instead of hating the enemy that we had such hate for, we began to feel sorry for them. . . . It was almost a miracle to realize the sort of thing that happened to us . . . we were no longer afraid to the extent that we had been . . . we no longer had the hatred."

"We thought a lot about religion," said Barr.  "When you're in tough straits God is the only one you can rely on."

"Faith kept me alive," agreed Nielsen.  "Faith in my nation.  My religion.  My creator."

Jake DeShazer's story would be the most remarkable.  One day he was cleaning his cell when a guard looked in and yelled "Hayaku!" (hurry up). DaShazer responded by telling the guard to "Go jump in a lake." The next thing he knew, DeShazer was knocked on the head by the guard's fist. The Raider kicked the guard in the stomach, and the guard hit back with the steel scabbard for his sword. Jake then threw some dirty mop water at the guard, which had the affect of cooling the guard off. Still, DeShazer was surprised that the guard had not cut his head off.

After the incident with the guard, DeShazer, who described himself as an agnostic, turned to the Bible and the experience would end up turning his life upside-down.  Jake felt that he needed some sign of God's existence, and as he read the Bible he felt that God was indeed present, reaching out for someone so abandoned, mistreated and hopeless as he was.  When he read for a second time Romans 10:9 "That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved" Jake started praying. "Lord, though I am far from home and though I am in prison, I must have forgiveness."

As he continued to study the Bible and pray his heart was filled with joy. "I wouldn't have traded places with anyone at that time," he would later say. "Oh, what a great joy it was to know that I was saved, that God had forgiven me my sins." DeShazer went on to say that "Hunger, starvation, and a freezing prison cell no longer had horrors for me. They would only be for a passing moment. Even death could hold no threat when I knew that God had saved me. Death is just one more trial that I must go through before I can enjoy the pleasures of eternal life. There will be no pain, no suffering, no loneliness in heaven. Everything will be perfect with joy forever."

The more DeShazer read, the more he knew that he had to change. He especially loved reading 1 Corinthians 13:

"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth. . . ."

DeShazer felt that his sins had been forgiven through Jesus Christ, and that he, too, would have to forgive.  He had another run in with a guard one day.  The impatient guard slapped Jake on the back, yelling "Hayaku, hayaku!", shoving him into his cell and slamming the door on his bare heel.  The guard kicked his foot until DeShazer was able to free himself.  "The pain in my foot was severe, and I thought some bones were broken. But as I sat on my stool in great pain, I felt as if God was testing me somehow."

DeShazer was tempted to take revenge the next day when the guard came on duty, but instead he called out "Ohayo gozaimasu!" (good morning). This drew a strange look from the guard. The next day, however, Jake gave the same friendly greeting to the guard. This went on morning after morning until the guard came over and spoke to the Raider. Jake, using what little Japanese he had managed to pick up while a prisoner, asked the guard about his family.

Not long after this conversation, Jake saw the guard pacing with his head bowed and hands folded in prayer. The guard explained that he was talking to his mother, who had died when he was a little boy. From that moment on the guard treated DeShazer well, never shouting at him and never beating him. "One morning he opened the slot [in the cell door] and handed in a boiled sweet potato," said Jake. "I was surprised, and thanked him profusely. Later he gave me some batter-fried fish and candy. I knew then that God's way will work if we really try, no matter what the circumstances." He concluded, "How easy it was to make a friend out of an enemy because I had just tried."

"I lived on hate for the first year," recalled Hite.  "I think we were able to kind of keep ourselves together living on hate, instead of laying down and giving up."  Reading the Bible, however, made a big difference.  "We decided that we had no hatred for the guards, vicious as they were," said Hite.  "They were ignorant and mean, but perhaps -- we thought -- there was some good in them.  The only way to develop goodness would be by understanding and education -- not by brutally mistreating them as they were doing to us."

Hite's health started to decline in the summer of 1944.  One day the pilot overheard Nielsen and DeShazer talking outside his cell.  "Hite won't be here tomorrow," said Nielsen.  "I don't think he can make it."

Hite was startled.  "I thought I was going to die," he would say later.  "I prayed to the Lord, told him I was willing to die if that's what he wanted, that mother was a widow and she might need me, but that I wasn't afraid to die and I was trusting in him.  It was the most amazing thing.  I started getting well right there."

The examples of DeShazer, Hite and Nielsen stand out to those who have suffered far less than they but who still struggle to forgive.

-------

"America's maritime offensive had reached a climax in the summer of 1944 with the capture of the Marianas, the ultimate prize of the Pacific," James Scott wrote.  The islands of Saipan, Tinian and Guam would be used as platforms for the bombardment of Japan.  "Day after day, week after week, B-29 Superfortresses darkened the skies over Japan by the hundreds," continued Scott.  "Bombers pounded Japan's major cities night after night in raids Doolittle could only have dreamed of years earlier when he throttled up his B-25s that rainy morning on the deck of the Hornet."

With more than 28,500 sorties, Superfortresses would drop almost 160,000 tons of bombs on more than 60 cities.  The results were devastating, with almost 158 square miles razed, including more than 50 square miles of Tokyo, 15 of Osaka, and 11 of Nagoya, while as many as 330,000 Japanese civilians were killed, 475,000 wounded and 8.5 million left homeless.  By the summer of 1945, Doolittle was moving his present command, the mighty U.S. Eighth Air Force, from England to the Pacific, and he predicted that "Japan eventually will be a nation without cities."

Then, on the morning of August 6, 1945, a lone B-29 took off from North Field on the island of Tinian.  Hours later, the Enola Gay, piloted by Colonel Paul W. Tibbets, would drop the atomic bomb known as "Little Boy" over the city of Hiroshima.  After the war, American investigators would estimate that the bomb, which leveled more than 4 square miles, had killed approximately 80,000 people, and injured another 100,000.  Three days later a second bomb, "Fat Man", would be dropped on Nagasaki, killing some 45,000 more people and injuring some 60,000.

On the morning of August 9, Jake DeShazer awoke in his prison cell in Peking, China.  Inside himself he heard a voice which urged him to pray.  "What shall I pray about," he asked.  The answer he received was to pray for peace.

Not knowing what was happening on that same day in Japan, or what had happened in the preceding days, DeShazer began to pray.  From seven in the morning until two in the afternoon, the young airman prayed that Japanese leaders would welcome peace and that the public would not be demoralized or taken advantage of in postwar Japan.  Then he heard the voice again, "You don't need to pray anymore," it said.  "Victory is won."

Within days, Japan would surrender unconditionally.  Emperor Hirohito decided that it was time to stop the suffering of his people.  Despite a coup attempt by hard-line Japanese army officers, the Emperor would give a radio announcement of the decision to surrender, and to bear the unbearable.  Within a matter of days, DeShazer and his fellow prisoners of war would be free.


Sources:

Nelson, C. (2002). The First Heroes: The Extraordinary Story of the Doolittle Raid -- America's First World War II Victory.  New York: The Viking Press

Scott, J. M. (2015). Target Tokyo: Jimmy Doolittle and the Raid the Avenged Pearl Harbor. New York: W. W. Norton & Company.

The Darkest Summer

He sat on a bench watching the tableau that is Lava Hot Springs.  People from all over walked up the street carrying tubes for floating down the Portneuf River.  Others carried their tubes in trucks, while still others rode the flat bed shuttles.  But he was distracted, torn from the hustle of the small Idaho town and the crisis within his soul.

Two and a half years earlier he had been diagnosed with type one Diabetes, and this led to a prescription for insulin.  He was out of work at the time, but fortunately he received help from his doctor at the university's Diabetes center who gave him samples.  But then, the previous spring, the center informed him that they would no longer be able to provide the samples.

By now he had a job, but the health insurance plan had a large deductible which had to be satisfied before it would pay for prescriptions and most medical expenses.  With no way to pay for the insulin, he stopped taking it, and with that the darkness began to descend.

The symptoms of Diabetes include weight loss, itchy skin, and frequent trips to the restroom, among others.  But there are additional dangers for those who become insulin dependent.  Untreated type 1 diabetes can commonly lead to diabetic ketoacidosis.  Diabetic ketoacidosis results from a shortage of insulin; in response the body switches to burning fatty acids which produces acidic ketone bodies.

It had been almost three months since he last took his insulin, and the weight loss was beginning to show.  His mouth was usually dry in the morning and in the heat of the day he often felt weak.  Hence he sat on the bench watching the people and the shuttles move up and down the main drag of the resort town.

On top of his health, there were other issues.  It was good to have a job, but he worked in a call center where mandatory overtime was a fact of life.  In the past month and a half he had worked 28 ten hour shifts out of the last 30.  This would have been challenging enough, but the lack of insulin may have made him even more tired than he would been otherwise.  Dry mouth in the morning was another challenge when taking call after call.

A month earlier an old high school friend had unexpectedly passed away, and it affected him rather deeply.  He had met her his sophomore year and had instantly taken a liking to this sweet angel.  Later he would ask her to a dance and first she would say yes, but then she would cancel, which broke his heart.  A few months later they got together to talk about what hd really happened; it was a learning experience that made them better friends.  Now she was gone, taken by cancer, much too young.

Though he had not seen her in many years, he mourned her loss; it was a reminder that life is short and unpredictable.  The unpredictability took on new meaning in light of his inability to pay for the medicine he needed.  How much time did he have left?

The question uncovered another wound.  There was another old friend who, for reasons unknown, had shut him out.  "If thy brother hath ought against thee . . go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother."  But how can one be reconciled when the other refuses to communicate?  Waste no more time because you cannot know how much of it you really have.

The events of the last few months had left him feeling more and more isolated.  It was ironic that, as he spoke to strangers all day, five days a week on the phone, sometimes making brief connections, he felt he could not connect with those around him, or even with those to whom he should have been the closest.  An old friend was gone, and another had built a wall, leading to the building of other walls, but now he carried a secret that he felt he could not share with anyone.

Then there was the anger.  He had become angry for having been diagnosed with Diabetes.  He was angry that he had become dependent on a medication that he could not afford.  He was angry about a job that demanded so mush but gave so little.

And so he sat, watching the tableau of Lave Hot Springs, watching the world pass by.  He was still alive, but he was not really living.  His heart cried out, "what shall I do?"  But he already knew the answer, he just didn't like it.  He knew that he had to swallow his pride and ask his family for help.  He did not want to do it, because he resented the stones that had come with the bread the last time he had asked for help.  Additionally, it was one thing to ask for help when he was out of work, but now that he had a job, working that mandatory overtime, he felt it was expected of him to get by without help.

He knew what he had to do, but still he sat, watching the world go by.  Then a voice within said "Get up and live."  He did not react to it immediately, so it came again, more insistently, "Get up and live!"

So he got up, grabbed his camera and began to take pictures of the tableau that is Lava Hot Springs.  He walked up the street, getting shots of the folks carrying their tubes, of those using their own vehicles, and of those riding the shuttles.  Then he walked to the river to photograph the people as they rode their tubes through the rapids.

Get up and live.

A Prom Story: After the Fall

I waited two weeks after the prom before calling Julie to ask her out on another date.  I asked her to a basketball game, but she said she was busy.  It was not what she said as much as how, but I did not feel encouraged to try again at a later time.  Maybe I had waited too long.

So now love is gone
I can't go on, love is gone
I want to say
Now it's just too late
Waited far too long

But life can be funny.  In early May I called Julie up because I had an assignment for my photography class for an outdoor portrait.  Julie agreed and we went for a walk to a park where I was able to get a few very nice shots of her.  With one I caught her with her eyes closed, as if she were dreaming.  We talked while we walked and all was wonderful.

Maybe it wasn't too late.  Maybe there was still a chance.  So I called her up a week or so later to ask her out.  This time, however, instead of just saying she was busy, Julie gave me a speech about how many responsibilities she had at home.  Perhaps I had just caught her at a bad time but, once more, hope was gone.

Can't stop fallin'
Heartaches callin'
Finds you after the fall
Saints or sinners
Take no prisoners
What's left after you fall

Sometime before the day of the photo shoot, a girl in one of my classes, who also knew Julie, told me that she did not think that I cared about her.   Now, this girl gave me a lot of flack, almost every day, so I am not sure that I can count on her veracity.  Nonetheless I found myself torn between feelings of hurt and feelings of hope.

I put away the photographs from the Junior Prom and tried not to think about her.  I told myself that I would not fall for her again.  It seemed that the bloom was off the rose as she did not always appear as nice as I thought she was.

I definitely made some mistakes with Julie, but she did not always help matters. The junior prom seemed to be a turning point in our friendship.  Before the dance she had always been nice and friendly to me.  But after the prom she seemed to alternate between hot and cold as far as I was concerned. In retrospect it is hardly surprising that I never knew where I stood with her.

You meant more to me
Than I let you see
You held on somehow
All your tenderness
And your sweet caress
I miss you now

Again, life can be funny.  One day in July, I was out with "the guys"  -- I was still not really one of them, but sometimes I would be with the guys in my ward -- and we were swimming in the pool at one of their houses.  Later, this guy's sister gave me a ride home, and Julie, who lived across the street, was in the car.  A few times I caught her looking at me . . . and was she smiling?  I wrote in my journals that night, "Wow, she might still like me!"  Then I wrote that while I still liked her, I did not love her anymore.

Two days later I was again writing in my journal.  I had lied, I wrote, when I said that I did not love Julie.  Since that ride home, she had been the only thing on my mind.  But what could I do?  Could I ask her to be my girl?  I had tried twice to forget about her, but had failed.  I did not want to do the wrong thing, but what was the right thing?

Was I still in love?  Had I ever been in love?  Even today I do not really know the answer to the second question, but I am certain of the answer to the first.  I wrote in my journal that when I thought I hated her, I was wrong, that it was really love.  But you don't respond to rejection by falling in love, and you don't talk about never letting go.

If you really love someone, then you will let them go because their happiness is more important than your own.  By refusing to let go of someone who isn’t really yours in the first place you are just damaging them as well as yourself.  I had very strong feelings about Julie, but they were not healthy feelings, at least not since she first turned me down for a second date.

But a headstrong stubborn man
Only works it out the best he can

Most of the time persistence is a good thing, but sometimes it is better to simply move on.  After the new school year began, I asked Julie to a few football games, but each time she could not go.  One day in early November I followed her home trying to work up the courage to call after her and ask her out.

Before I could get enough courage she suddenly whirled around and demanded “What is it you want? Is there something you want from me? Why are you following me?”

I immediately shot back, “I’m not following you!” and then walked on past her.

I doubt she was fooled by my attempt to pass it all off as a coincidence. I was so mad at myself for blowing it and I worried that once again I had hurt her. Once more I tried to forget about Julie.  Once more it would proved to be very difficult.

Oh I say love is gone
I can't go on
Now love is gone
I want to say
But It's just too late
Waited far too long

While I tried to forget about Julie, I was trying to grow a new friendship with a girl I met in my seminary class during the second semester of my sophomore year.  Mary sat behind me, and it wasn't long before I found myself intrigued by this sweet, beautiful girl.

But this time I would be more careful.  This time I would build a solid friendship before I asked her out.  On the one hand, maybe I was setting myself up again, but on the other hand, that simple decision, along with a decision to be more outgoing as my Junior year started, would lead to a major transformation the next fall.



Song lyrics:

"After You Fall". Journey, Cain, J. & Perry, S. (1983).

A Prom Story: "We've Got Tonight"

It was January 26, 1985, the night of the Junior Prom.  The theme came from a song by Bob Seger, "We've Got Tonight" -- although, looking at the lyrics, I'm not sure how appropriate that was for a high school dance.

I know it's late, I know you're weary
I know your plans don't include me
Still here we are, both of us lonely
Longing for shelter from all that we see
Why should we worry, no one will care girl
Look at the stars so far away

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
We've got tonight babe
Why don't you stay?

 Deep in my soul, I've been so lonely
All of my hopes, fading away
I've longed for love, like everyone else does
I know I'll keep searching, even after today
So there it is girl, I've said it all now
And here we are babe, what do you say?

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?
We've got tonight babe
Why don't you stay? 

The night before the dance, my priest quorum went on an overnight trip to a farm, where the next day we planned to ride snowmobiles in the fields.  I had a really good time, and I came away with something to talk about on my date with Julie.

Having just turned 16 a few weeks earlier, I still did not have my driver's license, so I depended on my parents to do the driving.  I do not suppose that it made a good impression when my mom and I picked Julie up at  7:30.  On the other hand, I did not have to worry about parking, so there was that.  My mom did all the talking on the drive in to Salt Lake City . . . thanks Mom.  Actually, she probably did me a favor.

Mother dropped us off at the Hotel Utah, where we had dinner at the Hotel Utah Grill.  This was a restaurant in the basement of the historic building that is now the Joseph Smith Memorial Building.  The big plus was that it was within easy walking distance of Symphony Hall, where the dance was being held.  It may not have been the fanciest of places, but it wasn't Village Inn or Denny's either.

The Grill was a suggestion made by my father.  A week before the dance we went into town to scout some places within walking distance of the venue for the Prom.  It seemed like a nice place, and the food was good.  I had the broiled burger while Julie ordered the club sandwich, though I am sure there were fancier entrees on the menu.  Finally alone, I talked about how much fun I had on the snowmobile trip that day.

After dinner, we walked down South Temple, past Temple Square, to Symphony Hall, which was the building's original name, though it had since been renamed Abravanel Hall.  As I had been taught, I walked on the street side, and did my best to be the perfect gentleman.  We arrived at the dance after 8:30, went inside, and got our pictures taken.

We wandered around the multi-tiered lobby for a bit and then found our way to the dance floor.  Julie looked wonderful that night.  Since that stake dance a few years earlier I had always found her pretty, but that night she was radiant.  Once again I had that special feeling, not just when we danced, but all night long.  I was having a wonderful time, and I hoped that she was, as well.

As the night went on, we danced, we wandered around, we sat and talked with some of her friends, we danced some more.  Alas, I had run out of topics for conversation fairly early in the evening, and I was a little self-conscious about not having much to say.

My father picked us up at 11:30 and we took her home. I walked Julie to the door and said that I had had wonderful time.  She said that she had enjoyed the evening as well.  Then we said good night.

I made a point of talking to Julie the next day at church, but I wish now that I had thought of doing what I would a few years later as a senior, and go by her house.  But that came about from a happy accident, when the girl I took to the Homecoming dance that year forgot her ticket for the photos and I took it by her house the next day.  That worked out so well I kept the photo ticket, or something else, on purpose in order to have an excuse to see the girl the day after the dance.

We did have that night, would we have any others?

A Prom Story: A Natural Thing

She's an old-fashioned feelin'
She's an old-fashioned song

How do you know if you are falling in love?  That might be a different question from "How do you know if you love someone?" which I think is easier to answer.  Simply put, if you love someone, their happiness becomes more important to you than your own.  Perhaps, then, falling in love means that the happiness of another person is becoming progressively more important to you.

In September of 1984, I started my sophomore year of high school, and there was one person who was becoming more and more important to me.  On the first day of school, for reasons that I do not recall, Julie sat down in front of me in my math class, and she was as nice and friendly as she ever had been.  Having her there in the desk in front of me for an hour or so every day was very different from sharing a few dances at the occasional stake dance.

At the end of the first week of school I was walking home when I spotted Julie walking ahead of me.  She looked back, saw me and stopped to wait for me to catch up. I can still see her, with her blonde hair -- now shortened -- highlighted by the mid afternoon sun.  I can see her smile and the light in her eyes as we talked about surviving high school and other things.  I thought Julie was beautiful, and I enjoyed spending time with her.

Perhaps Julie was just being friendly, but I thought she might have liked me, too.  She would later say that she was just trying to be neighborly.  But no one else had ever been as nice and friendly to me as Julie had been.  It is easy to see things that are not there, and it is certainly possible I saw more than friendship in her kindness.  Falling in love is a natural thing, especially during those halcyon days of youth.  I would have asked Julie to the Homecoming Dance, except that I wasn't yet sixteen, and still had a few months to wait.

A few weeks later my stake put on a street dance.  I danced a few times with Julie, of course, but I also danced with other girls.  I had a special feeling as I danced with Julie that I did not have with the others. I thought that I was in love, but was I?

These were magical days, when everything was wonderful, but they would not last.  Later, when things had turned sour, when I told myself that I was still in love, I could not have been.  Later, at least, I was not putting her happiness first.  But in these early days could I have been in love with Julie?  Perhaps I would just like to remember it that way.

It seems that the use of the word "fall" is a metaphor.  To develop feelings of love for someone is risky, and a certain vulnerability is implied.  Proximity, similarity, reciprocity, and physical attractiveness are factors that contribute to the notion of falling in love.

If one wants to get scientific about it, there are two chemical reactions in play when you fall in love, the increase in oxytocin and vasopressin.  Oxytocin is human peptide hormone and neuropeptide that plays a role in social bonding while vasopressin is a neurohypophysial hormone that has a very short half-life between 16 and 24 minutes  One person has suggested that "when we fall in love we are falling into a stream of naturally occurring amphetamines running through the emotional centers of our very own brains."

Timing matters, too.  There might be a crystallization period of, perhaps, six weeks, involving obsessive brooding and idealization, followed by a period of doubt and then a final crystallization of love.  Additionally, it may be that men fall in love earlier than women, but women are likely to fall out of love quicker.

In love or not, I did something stupid.  In trying to impress her, I told her something that wasn't true, and when she found me out I was naturally filled with feelings of guilt.  I thought that I had ruined everything.  A couple of years later I talked to Julie about what I had done, but she said that she did not remember it.  Even so, the guilt I felt may have had the effect of deepening whatever feelings I was having.

I figured at the time that I must have been nuts about Julie, but I loved it.  I loved the feeling I had when I was around her.  Still, I thought I had blown it with her.  I began to feel worse and worse with each passing day.  Alas, time passed and eventually I forgot about the incident, or I at least got to the point where I wasn’t constantly thinking about it.

Julie's in love now, but love has gone
It's a natural thing

One day I heard a rumor that Julie was going with another guy, someone she had met at a dance, and I was devastated.  Whether it was true or not did not seem to matter.  It seems that my feelings may have been less than healthy, but I was just a kid.

Oh, she was old-fashioned feelin'
She was old-fashioned song

Finally, in late December I turned sixteen, and in mid January I asked Julie to the Junior Prom.  In retrospect, a prom might not have been the best idea for my first ever date with a girl. In any case, after three days, Julie said yes.  Could we recapture those early days when all was magical?

Winter and moonlight
It's an old-fashioned song
Julie's in blue jeans
Now her love has gone